


This Is It

by YourPalYourBuddy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Kinda, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Years 1-7, am i tagging right, as in everything that happens in the books happens but we see dramione happen, harry potter compliant to an extent, they do and then they don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourPalYourBuddy/pseuds/YourPalYourBuddy
Summary: Their eyes meet across the platform.The grey smoke and fog weaves a moment around their heads.If they were bolder, either of them, they would run and clasp hands.And say I’ve missed you, where’d you go?But they don’t.Maybe it’s just too late for us, she thinks.She takes her husband’s hand and forces a laugh when he cracks a joke.Maybe we were never meant to happen, he muses.His son looks up at him anxiously, and he kneels to reassure him. But—They catch eyes again.But—Memories lurk in the shadows of their eyes.But— _________________Dramione interactions over their years at Hogwarts, and a little after.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory disclaimer that I do not own these characters, sadly.  
> I'm on tumblr: @ivecarvedawoodenheart, come say hi!

Their eyes meet across the platform. 

The grey smoke and fog weaves a moment around their heads.

If they were bolder, either of them, they would run and clasp hands.

And say  _ I’ve missed you, where’d you go? _

But they don’t.

Maybe it’s just too late for us, she thinks. 

She takes her husband’s hand and forces a laugh when he cracks a joke.

Maybe we were never meant to happen, he muses. 

His son looks up at him anxiously, and he kneels to reassure him.

 

But—

They catch eyes again.

But—

Memories lurk in the shadows of their eyes.

But— 

The door opens.

“Have you seen a toad? A boy called Neville’s lost one.”

“Who would bring a  _ toad _ to Hogwarts? How  _ pathetic _ .”

“Don’t be rude. If you see it, we’re in the compartment closest to the driver.”

The door closes. His eyes follow her curiously.

The Hat is placed on her head.

“Granger, Hermione!”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

In the cheers, no one hears his disappointment.

“Malfoy, Draco!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

The Hat didn’t even a pause to deliberate.

The Hat is taken off his head.

No one hears her deliberation.

He pulls a smirk and saunters to his table.

She looks at him curiously.

Madame Hooch blows her whistle, and the game begins.

“You should join the team, Longbottom. If brains were money, you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.”

She doesn’t turn. She must have heard him.

Did she hear him?

After he fights with Weasley, she looks at him with pity.

He doesn’t want her pity.

Madam Hooch blows her whistle, and the game ends.

_ Wonderful  _ Harry Potter and his  _ perfect _ friends.

That’s all he thinks over the summer break.

He picks up a quill seven times and poises it over the parchment to write,

_ Dear Hermione _

But he scratches it out every time.

She works on her potions homework diligently over the break.

Maybe this year, they won’t insult each other.

Maybe they could be friends.

Forget what Harry and Ron would say.

Maybe they could all be friends.

They see each other in Diagon Alley, and she almost says hello.

The words almost come out of her mouth before she sees his father.

His father sneers at her.

He winces and mouths,  _ sorry _ .

She nods to him.

They see each other in Diagon Alley, and he almost says goodbye.

They see each other at the platform, and he almost asks her to sit with him.

They catch eyes, and he raises his hand to say hello.

She mirrors his motion.

She’s smiling. His heart beats harder.

She looks away for a moment as Lavender and Parvati call her name.

He watches them walk away from him.

He charms his way into the hospital wing when he hears.

Madame Pomfrey almost doesn’t let him in, but he smiles angelically.

His eyes tear. Madame Pomfrey lets him in.

She’s frozen like a statue and he cries for real.

What if this was it?

He’d never be able to tell her he admires her.

What if this was it?

The dementors come into their compartment and she’s chilled to her soul.

Harry collapses on the floor.

Fred and George say Draco ran into their compartment.

She wants to ask how he is.

Harry shakily gets to his seat.

The words are on her lips.

Ron looks savage at Draco’s name.

The words die unsaid.

He hopes she knows it wasn’t his fault Buckbeak is on trial.

It was mentioned to his father, of course.

_ My father will hear about this. _

But he never tells him.

She’s helping Hagrid on his defense and he’s leaving her books on her table in the library.

She sees him leave a book once.

He freezes.

She nods to him.  _ Thank you. _

He thinks she knows it wasn’t his fault.

But when he says that about Hagrid—

When he say that—

She hits him across the face.

A solid punch. Like her mother taught her. Thumb outside the fist.

“Granger! What the bloody—”

“I’m not going to apologize for it Malfoy!”

_ Granger. _

_ Malfoy. _

“You blacked my eye!”

“You insulted Hagrid!”

“And I’m sorry, okay, what else could I have said with—”

“With Crabbe and Goyle there? You could have said anything else!”

“You don’t understand—”

“What’s there to misunderstand? Draco Malfoy, you can’t blame them for your behavior!”

“Hermione—”

_ Draco. _

_ Hermione. _

“Let go of my hand, Draco Malfoy, before I hex you.”

Defense Against the Dark Arts and he’s nauseous.

He’s heard everything from his father, of course.

Two words, and everything’s beyond repair.

And how many times his father has said them, too.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she’s pale when she says the words.

He can’t say anything to her.

She’d idly thought he’d say something to her when they announce the Yule Ball.

Maybe. Just think of what everyone would say.

Maybe. Maybe they’d all be friends.

But this time, she doesn’t believe it.

Part of her is relieved when Viktor asks.

And when she says no, it shatters him.

He can tell she’s sad about saying it, but he’s good at reading people’s lies.

There’s a glimmer in her eye still.

And he knows she would have said no anyway, even without Viktor.

But maybe she would have wanted to say yes.

She refuses to look at him when she and Viktor open the dance.

He cannot look away.

“One dance.”

“I can’t, someone will see.”

“Yes, you see, they’ll use their  _ eyes _ . But  _ they _ aren’t here.”

She knows who  _ they _ are.

“Someone will tell Harry and Ron. You know they will.”

“Then you can say they’re lying. C’mon Hermione…”

Pause.

“Only if we go outside.”

“Really?”

Laughter.

“Yes, really. C’mon, Draco…”

“One dance.”

She tugs on his hands. Their fingers twine into a lovers’ knot.

“Only one?”

Cedric Diggory’s name is everywhere, after.

They don’t say anything to each other.

She stays in the hospital wing with Potter.

He stays away.

She thinks about him sometimes.

He thinks about her always.

Cedric Diggory’s name is everywhere, after.

She holds her quill deliberately.

_ Dear Draco _

_ How are you? I’m worried about you. _

And she crumples it.

He listens to his father’s rants over the summer.

Dumbledore rants at her over the summer.

_ You cannot tell anyone about what this family is doing, Draco. _

_ You mustn’t tell Harry, Miss Granger. Harry mustn’t know. _

The meetings are in secret. Everyone wears black.

The meetings are in Sirius’ family home. Everyone wears Muggle clothing.

He’s smothered by their expectations.

She’s frustrated by their exclusion.

There’s going to be a war.

He starts twenty letters to her in his head.

_ Dear Hermione _

_ My dearest Hermione _

_ My dearest, Hermione _

One is a love letter. This one he writes down.

He writes out the words  _ I love you, I always have. _

Then he burns the parchment.

Dumbledore’s Army meets in the Room of Requirement.

She almost invites him.

Ron would have fought him.

Harry would have helped.

She doesn’t know what she would do.

She doesn’t invite him.

The Inquisitorial Squad meets in Umbridge’s office.

It’s too pink and smells like cats.

He’s allergic.

He knows—he’s  _ positive _ she, Potter, and Weasley are doing something subversive.

He wonders if he could shield them as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.

He wonders, if he had the chance, would he?

“Hermione, I’m sorry—”

“Well, that’s a relief, then, isn’t it? That you’re sorry?”

“I am, I swear—”

“You can’t keep apologizing and expecting me to forgive you, this isn’t how friendship works—”

“I didn’t mean—”

“—to call me Mudblood? You said it directly to my face, Malfoy.”

“Granger, listen—”

_ Malfoy. _

_ Granger. _

“Why do you always call me ‘Granger’ when we argue?”

“Why do you always call me ‘Malfoy’ when we argue?”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Hermione. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you—”

“I don’t know that you can, Draco.”

“What?”

“Don’t you think we aren’t meant to be friends?”

“Hermione—”

“No, listen. We’re on two opposing sides. We shouldn’t even be talking.”

“Hermione, this is an assigned patrol.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between patrolling because we have to and patrolling because we like talking to each other.”

Pause.

He takes her hands.

“You like talking to me?”

“Sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Well, sometimes you insult my heritage and I have to jinx you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Pause.

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“You can let go of my hands now.”

Their fingers fit together perfectly.

“I could, yes.”

His father sends a letter in cypher after dinnertime.

_ Take care, Draco _

It says.

_ Stay out of trouble _

The usual messages, but the writing is shaky.

_ I cannot say more now, but the plans are in motion _

Hadn’t Potter gotten in trouble today for trying to contact someone?

_ Potter will be caught in a trap _

He racks his memory. 

_ Him, and whatever friends he’s bringing _

Potter wasn’t at dinner.

He knows there was a scuffle after Potter was caught—he was in it, after all—but.

Madame Pomfrey fixed the Inquisitorial Squad with a flick of her wrist. 

He’d thought they’d been taken to Umbridge’s office again.

Hermione wasn’t at dinner.

He jumps to his feet and runs as fast as he can for Umbridge’s fireplace.

She makes it out.

Most of them do.

But they aren’t the same.

She never thought it was a game, but it felt like one.

When they were protected in the castle and the biggest danger was Umbridge catching them.

When they had beds to fall into after lessons.

(When Sirius was alive.)

She makes it out.

But she’s different now.

His father goes to jail and now he understands the letter.

He keeps his head down.

He doesn’t say anything to her.

He starts thirty letters to her in his head.

_ I’m so sorry _

_ I tried to tell you _

_ My dearest, Hermione _

He doesn’t send any to her.

When he gets it, it burns.

That’s the only sensation he understands for a long moment, the burning.

It stings and pulsates unpleasantly when the Dark Lord touches it. 

He wants to cut off his arm.

And when the Dark Lord whispers his task in his ear, he masks his unease underneath arrogance.

He has a plan.

She stays with the Weasleys over the vacation.

It’s quieter, more subdued than usual, even with Fleur’s announcement about her and Bill’s engagement.

She degnomes the garden with Ron, who lets his hand linger just a second longer than needed as he hands her gloves.

She finds she doesn’t mind much.

She doesn’t think about Draco.

They see each other on the platform, and she doesn’t almost say hi.

She does study him, though.

He’s thinner, his face drawn. He looks like an empty house.

She wants to hug him.

She doesn’t.

He wants her to.

He’s standing with his mother in a dark suit and he feels like an empty Quidditch pitch.

He studies her, too.

She’s standing smaller, somehow. Not hunched, just more compacted.

Like the pressure has finally settled on her shoulders.

And as much as he’d like to carry some of her burden…

They see each other on the platform, and he doesn’t almost say goodbye.

He almost kills Katie Bell.

He almost kills Ron Weasley.

And he wonders if he’ll almost kill her too.

And he wonders if she knows how much he needs her light right now.

And he wonders how much she hates him.

She runs to the hospital wing when she hears.

She doesn’t have to charm her way in.

What if this was it?

What if this was it?

“Draco? Is that you?”

“Granger?”

“Are you…are you okay?”

“How’d you find me?”

“Moaning Myrtle found me, said she’d heard someone crying in the Prefects’ bathroom.”

“And you decided you had to look.”

“I wanted to make sure whomever it was was okay.”

“Do I look okay to you?”

Pause.

She studies him.

“No…what’s wrong, Draco?”

A hysterical laugh.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Draco. Please.”

“Hermione. I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t—”

“I could help you—”

“Everyone wants to help me! Snape, you, my aunt, everyone! Let me ask you, Granger, who’s helping you? What’s anyone doing to help you?”

Pause.

“Hermione, why don’t you hate me?”

He asks the last question in a whisper.

“I’ve tried. I don’t know why.”

She takes his hands.

“I’ve been awful to you.”

“Not entirely true. Mostly, but not all true.”

“Thanks.”

She smiles sadly.

“Is this…Draco…?”

She slowly pushes up the sleeve of his left arm.

He doesn’t stop her.

He hangs his head.

She traces the Mark.

“Draco…”

And then she kisses him, slowly, sweetly.

Her hand stays on his left forearm.

He closes his eyes.

She tastes like a benediction.

And then she’s gone.

Why couldn’t it have been Pansy?

This is his only thought.

It would have been so much easier.

She lets herself linger on the kiss for a few moments after she leaves.

Then she files it away.

There’s a battle.

They’re fighting all up and down the Astronomy Tower, and nothing makes sense.

They’re in the middle of the war.

They see each other on opposite sides, and she doesn’t curse him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want her to.

He’s at the top of the tower now.

Dumbledore is disarmed.

And Dumbledore falls. And he himself falls closer toward the end, and he can’t stop.

She dodges curses that rain down on all sides.

He comes down the staircase.

They see each other on opposite sides.

And there are no words to say.

They both stare at blank parchment for a long time before sliding it wordlessly into a drawer.

He’s thought about her.

She’s thought about him.

And neither wanted to.

He finds out about the Death Eater attack on the Ministry and at the Weasley wedding when  _ they _ do.

He can’t say anything when his father tells him.

There aren’t any words on his lips.

And his owl is too old to carry letters.

She finds out about Severus Snape becoming headmaster through the  _ Prophet _ .

He’s known for weeks.

September rolls around, and he’s back at Hogwarts.

She isn’t.

He misses her.

She tries to forget about him.

Winter rolls around, and she’s at Malfoy Manor.

So is he.

They see each other on opposite sides, and he does his best.

He doesn’t recognize Harry Potter.

He does, but he’s a good liar.

Even to his parents.

But she’s harder to cover.

And her screams are hard to ignore.

He eases his wand into his hand and just before he can aim at his aunt—

She looks up, and there’s Ron.

Ron, storming up the stairs, Ron yelling her name.

And she doesn’t need a knight, but damn if she doesn’t love him then.

She looks at Draco, frozen in the act of cursing Bellatrix.

And damn if she doesn’t—

Dobby disappears with all four of them.

All four of them, and a silver knife.

All four of them, a silver knife, and the echo of his gasp when he realizes what may have just happened.

His aunt smiles darkly.

He screams at her.

She hears what Harry tells her about the Hallows and the Horcruxes, and she’s proud.

Proud that Harry’s fighting to stop Voldemort instead of fighting to keep the Hallows.

The three of them come together and create a plan.

She wonders what he’s doing.

She looks at Ron.

And immediately she makes herself forget him.

_ There’s going to be a war _

He writes to her.

_ This is the war _

She replies.

_ No. This is the beginning of the end _

_ Draco _

_ Hermione _

_ We are the war _

_ Yes, and? _

_ Strip the leader of his war and what does he have left? _

And so.

They sneak into the Hog’s Head and sneak along the secret passageway.

Harry tells his plan, his needs.

She stays behind with Ron and his family.

Ron whispers, “The Chamber”.

And so.

They march up the lawn in the dark and march into the school.

The Dark Lord tells his plans, his needs.

Harry Potter is mine, the Dark Lord says.

He nods and shields his mind.

His mother whispers, “Find her”.

“Hermione! HERMIONE!”

“Draco?!”

She keeps a cautious grip on her wand.

“Listen to me—the giants are coming—be careful—duck!”

He pulls her to the ground.

The window explodes above them.

Their faces are inches apart.

“What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, Granger. Fighting a war.”

“Draco…”

She sobs.

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry.”

She wipes her face on his shirt.

“I’m sorry about the…”

“Don’t worry, love. It’s fine.”

“Love? Oh—hold on—”

She spells a tumble of bricks headed for them to fall instead on a group of acromantulas.

“You called me ‘love’.”

He hesitates.

“Yes. I did.”

“Draco…”

“Hermione, you must know how I feel about you.”

“Draco, is now the—time?”

“What better time than now? What if this is it?”

He traces the curve of her cheek, settling his hand along her jaw.

“What if it is?”

She says this last in a whisper.

“There’s something I ought to tell you, in case it is.”

“What’s that?”

They’re both speaking softly now. The battle rages around them.

He lowers his face closer to hers.

“I lo…you were my first kiss.”

Ron yells and shoots a curse at him and they separate.

Ron takes her hand and asks if she’s okay.

She nods.

His eyes follow her.

She doesn’t look back.

His father yells and shoots a curse at Lupin and he runs toward the wall.

His father shakes his shoulders and asks if he’s okay.

He doesn’t respond.

And then the fighting ceases, for a moment.

And the Dark Lord announces Harry Potter is dead.

This can’t be happening

It isn’t supposed to be like this

Not him

They worry suddenly for the other

_ What if this is it? _

What if this is it?

He’d die without telling her.

What if this is it?

She’d die without seeing him again.

And then they hold their breath where they stand, ringing the Great Hall.

And then Harry announces the truth of the wand.

The truth of Riddle, the truth of the prophecy.

The truth of everything.

And they cast their spells—

And this is it, finally, at last, this is it—

And they see each other on opposite sides, but the sides are crumbling.

Harry stands over the shrunken body of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

And the Hall erupts in celebration.

Not an explosion, but a sigh, a great release of breath and shouts all at once.

She hugs Harry while he stands awkwardly in the corner.

Ron kisses her.

Ron sweeps her up in a grand circle and they sway on their feet.

Her eyes open for a moment.

They see each other over Ron’s shoulder; her, apologetic but resolute.

Him, shattered.

Him, heartbroken and stunned.

And there are no words to say.

They lose touch.

September rolls around, and she’s on her way to Hogwarts.

He isn’t.

She misses him.

She reminds herself to stop looking for him.

Winter rolls around, and he’s at Malfoy Manor.

She isn’t.

Memories crowd to the forefront of his mind, superimposed over the spot where Bellatrix…

She isn’t there, but the ghost of her is.

He can’t shake it.

He’s not sure he wants to.

The  _ Prophet _ shouts about her every day.

_ Hermione Granger graduates Hogwarts _

_ Ms. Granger, the smartest witch of her age, campaigns for the rights of house-elves _

_ Hermione Jean Granger to wed Ronald Bilius Weasley _

Eventually he stops paying for the paper.

She hears from a coworker at the Ministry that he’s engaged to Astoria Greengrass.

She nods and smiles and inquires politely about his health.

When she can, she walks quickly to the bathroom and composes herself.

It’s unfair of me, she thinks, to have imagined us together. Selfish.

She fiddles with her engagement ring.

She reminds herself to forget him.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Weasley. A healthy baby girl.”

Ron beams at her. She smiles back exhaustedly.

“A girl,” she says. “We’ll call her Rose.”

And on the other side of the hospital—

“Congratulations, Mrs. Malfoy. It’s a boy!”

And they name him Scorpius.

He sees Ron in the dimly lit cafeteria.

Of all the Muggle hospitals they could have gone to.

Ron doesn’t say anything.

They nod tersely.

And suddenly he realizes what must have just happened for them, and it strikes him like a Bludger to the chest.

And guilt claws at him immediately.

He reminds himself to forget her.

“You’ll never guess who I’ve just seen.”

“Who?”

“Draco Malfoy?”

“Really? Here?”

“Strange, isn’t it? Who’d’ve guessed he’d go to a Muggle hospital?”

“Yes…strange…”

He doesn’t tell Astoria.

They see each other in Diagon Alley, and she almost says hello.

She studies him.

He’s standing in front of Flourish and Blotts with an armload of shopping bags.

There’s an almost imperceptible sag to his shoulders, but when he sees her his eyes brighten.

She smiles back him, and he straightens, a smile hesitant at his lips.

The words almost come out of her mouth before she sees his wife.

Astoria Malfoy exits Flourish and Blotts and hands him her purchases before glancing to see who he’s staring at.

But she’s ducked her head and walks away.

They see each other in Diagon Alley, and he lets her go.

And now— 

Their eyes meet across the platform.

_ I love you _ , he’d say.

Instead, he kisses the top of his son’s head and waves as he goes into his compartment.

_ I had hope for us _ , she’d say.

Instead, she gives her daughter one last hug.

The train puffs and pulls away from the station.

They catch eyes.

They stand on the same side, at last.

But the train turns the corner—

Ron pulls on her hand—

And she leaves with him.

She looks back once.

He's watching her leave.

The fog and smoke clear and their eyes meet.

His heart beats harder.

He raises a hand in farewell.

She smiles sadly.

And there are no words to say.


End file.
